Wednesday, June 25, 2014

this late june morning










in the still, quiet thrum of morning . . .
it feels as if all the words have been written
there is no more cathartic revelation
no eureka-thesaurus moment where words & time roll into the place of always . .
nothing but the early thrum of the day
morning
stillness
a breeze barely rocking the curly willow
a dog curled against my back - pressing
a sky carousel-blue, unreal in it's hand-dipped perfection
but when the sunshine strikes my face
my eyes close ....
and we are laying upon a quilt of weathered-dried-in-the-sun
cotton patchwork
in a field of green-summer-golden
early
morning
stillness ....
a breeze barely rocking the curly willow
a distant thrum from a river wide & rushing eastward
pressing
it feels as if all the words have been written
there is no more than this ...
a meadowlark sings it's warrior song
claiming this piece of carousel-blue always
for it's own

3 comments:

  1. Beautiful! At least, there's no heavy rain! Kudos for you

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  2. A lovely still piece. Thank you Susie.

    ReplyDelete
  3. wow, really love this one Susie....

    ReplyDelete